


Glutton For Punishment

by kingsnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Food, Half-Sibling Incest, Married Jonsa, Post-Canon, Spanking, book canon, silly smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 16:57:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16479368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsnow/pseuds/kingsnow
Summary: Sansa, glutton that she is, is eating lemon cream in bed and some gets on Jon’s abs. Naturally, Sansa has to lick it off.





	Glutton For Punishment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amymel86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/gifts).



> For Amy, who once encouraged me to write a canon-era daddy kink fic, and who organized jonsa week for everyone! What a rockstar. Happy jonsa week everyone!
> 
> For Day 4 of Jonsa Week - Gluttony.

Ordinarily, Sansa Stark would not eat in bed. Not only was it undignified, she knew from firsthand experience sharing a bed with her little sister that crumbs were hard to get out of the furs they slept on. But it had been a long winter, and it had been a long time since Sansa had tasted something so sweet. She was Lady of Winterfell and Queen in the North, and though the positions were demanding, she was entitled to a few perks as well. The cook had saved her a bowl of lemon cream, and her maid had snuck it up to her room after the feast. Tonight had been the first time she’d tasted a lemon since she was in the Vale. It had been a long winter, and though Sansa had eaten better than most, they’d had to stretch and she seemed to eat only enough fresh fruit to ward of scurvy. When she and Jon had wed, they hadn’t even had sugar for cake, and so they’d celebrated with the same bread they eat every night. 

 

Sansa laid back on the pillows, running her bare feet through the soft furs, savouring the whipped cream and the mix of sweet and tart that reminded her of her youth. Once, she’d thought there was nothing more pleasurable than lemoncakes. She was a glutton at heart, always eager for sweet treats. But now she knew better, that there were other things even more pleasurable. The things she let Jon do to her were probably more sinful than gluttony. 

 

It is for that reason, and her fondness for him, that she does not turn him away when he shows up at her door.

 

He would still come second to desert, though. He’d have to wait his turn. 

 

Jon took off his boots and his shirt, and cuddled into bed with her, still in his smallclothes. Sansa moved closer to him, resting her cold feet on him. Of all the comforts she’d taken in marrying Jon Snow, this was her most treasured. One would assume that her husband ran cold. After all, he had been murdered and kept in the ice cells for days. But fire had brought him back, and it burned inside of him now. This made him an ideal bedmate (and secretly, she thought, an ideal lover).

 

“Put that away and come here,” Jon said.

 

“When I’m done.” 

 

Jon sighed, “you really shouldn’t be eating on the furs.”

 

“I’m the Lady of Winterfell, Jon. I can do as I like.”

 

“You’re going to make a mess,” Jon said, his voice stern. 

 

That sent a thrill down her spine. She liked it when Jon told her what to do, and she liked being reprimanded even more. It had turned her into a bit of a brat, really. It had just been such a long time since she’d had a man in her life that she could trust. Somebody to take care of her and show her right from wrong. Not since her father was alive had she felt so safe. Jon wouldn’t let anything happen to her, he had proved that time and again, and so Sansa could let her guard down with him, and be the child she still was deep down, the high-strung little girl who didn’t think anything bad could ever happen to her. 

 

So she flicked a spoonful of whipped cream onto his stomach. “Oops,” she said, with a smirk. “Oh, I’m afraid you were right… I’ve made a big mess...”

 

Jon’s jaw tightened. He looked at her with hard, dark eyes. Bedroom eyes she liked to call them, but their lovemaking was hardly confined to the their private chambers. It was just that the way he looked at her made her blood heat up -- as if she was something to be conquered. There was pleasure in putting up some resistance, if only to be assured that he truly did want her. She felt like a loose woman whenever he stirred her like this. Sansa knew she lusted after her husband far too strongly, more than could ever be considered decent for a woman of her standing, and that it was not proper, not dignified. But there was pleasure in the shame of it too, of knowing what a wretched creature she truly was. She licked her lips and stared back at him eagerly.  

 

Sansa had seen a man’s eyes go dark before, she knew that they hid lust, and that lust could drive them to do depraved things, but she didn’t fear Jon when he was like this. 

 

“You’re such a naughty girl,” Jon said, shaking his head. “You did that on purpose.”

 

“Oh Jon! I would  _ never!”  _ Sansa said, feigning shock. “How could you even accuse me of something so unladylike?” with that, Sansa flicked another spoonful of lemon cream onto him. This time it landed on his chest. She grinned at the sight of it. Her husband certainly made a handsome desert. She licked her lips at the thought of it, remembering the power she’d felt when she fell to her knees and gotten him off with her mouth, hidden behind the trees of the Godswood. She felt her face flush at the thought of it, remembering the taste of Jon, remembering how she hadn’t cared if anyone stumbled upon them, the helpless look on Jon’s face…

 

She was a very bad girl, so much worse than sweet Jon could have ever expected when he took his little sister to wed. A depraved little thing, who lusted after the man who reminded her so much of her father. And yet Jon didn’t mind teaching her how to make love, and how to please him. 

 

Jon grabbed the back of Sansa’s head like he had the first time he’d led her mouth over his cock, but this time he guided her to his chest. “Clean it up, my Lady,” Jon said. His voice was low, and there was no mistaking the fact that this was a command. Sansa did as she was told, lapping up the whipped cream from his chest with an eager tongue. It tasted better coming off of his chest than it did from a spoon, for she knew what was to come next.

 

She looked up at him with that same innocence and caught his gaze. She ran her tongue down lower, to where the first of the lemon cream had landed, and she licked it off of his muscled stomach. When it was all gone, she pulled away so she could lay back beside him, but before she could go far Jon’s hand was on the back of her head pushing it back down to his hard stomach.

 

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Jon said, his voice warning. 

 

“Forgive me,” Sansa said, before running her tongue along the ridge of his abdomen. She pursed her lips around warm skin and sucked until she left a small red welt. She smiled at the sight of it. Jon was covered in scars, and the love bite would fade fast, but she liked seeing her mark on his skin. Sansa reached her hand down and felt Jon’s hard cock through his smallclothes. 

 

“Not that,” Jon said, circling her wrist in his hand and pulling her arm back up to his chest. “No, you’ve been a bad girl, Sansa. You need to be punished, don’t you?”

 

“If you think so.”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the punishment fits the crime,” Jon said, leaning down to press a kiss to Sansa’s forehead before pulling her onto his lap. “I won’t be too rough on my little girl.” Jon flipped up the skirt of her shift, exposing her ass to the cool air of her the room. She could feel him hard beneath her as his hand came down to give her a gentle swat. 

 

“What was that?” Sansa asked, unable to control a fit of giggles, “I barely felt anything.” 

 

“I don’t want to leave a mark,” Jon said defensively. “You have a really nice rear end, you know.”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes, not that he could see it. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to learn from  _ that _ .”

 

“As if you would listen to me anyway,” Jon grumbled, but his hand came down harder on her ass this time. Sansa enjoyed the soft sting of it, and the sound it made. 

 

He hit her again and again, but never as hard as that second time. He was gentle with her, and when he was done, he ran his hand around the sensitive skin in soft circles. Sansa didn’t complain, for it wasn’t the pain she was after, it was Jon’s guiding hand, the care he put into making sure she was a good girl who behaved herself. He could punish her in all sorts of ways, and it always made her wet and eager.

 

Finally, he helped her back onto the bed. Sansa crawled on top of him and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. “I love you,” she said, and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I promise to be a good girl.” 

 

Jon kissed her this time, grumbling happily as he did. She opened her mouth and he sucked her tongue into his mouth, eager for her. 

 

She knew Jon was eager to be a father even though he had moon tea brewed for her to drink after each time they coupled. Their world wasn’t ready for a child, there was so much to do, and Jon feared losing her along with everything else they’d lost in the wars. She was the same age his mother was when she’d bled out in the birthing bed, after all. Sansa was not eager for a child herself, not yet. She still felt half a child herself, and she knew a son or daughter would come with new worries for her. She was enjoying being carefree. 

 

And yet each time they were like this, Sansa could not help but think what an excellent father Jon would make. Jon reached a hand between Sansa’s legs and brushed his knuckles against her clit and she sighed into his mouth, pulling him tighter. Perhaps this time she wouldn’t drink her moon tea, she’d tell him she was ready to grow up and be a mother, and they could reenact their childhoods again, filling Winterfell with little Starks. When she looked in the looking glass, Sansa could see that she looked more like her mother than the little girl who’d gone off to King’s Landing. And yet she was torn between the two of them, not ready to leave that little girl behind. 

 

“I don’t mind if you’re bad,” Jon whispered to her, thrusting two of his fingers into her and curling them. She moaned, and moved her hips against his hand. “Good little girls don’t do this with their bastard brothers…”

 

“No, they ignore them,” Sansa said. It must’ve stung Jon more than she’d intended it to, because he pushed a third finger inside of her. “ _ Oh, _ how could I ignore  _ that _ ?”

 

Jon laughed darkly and Sansa felt her belly tighten. “Your mother did warn you.” 

 

This was another game they played, another one that remained unspoken, hidden under layers of shame. Sansa pretended to be Jon’s little girl, but Jon remembered exactly who Sansa was. When they were abed Jon was the wicked bastard Lady Catelyn Stark had imagined him to be, taking possession of everything Sansa’s mother had loved the most. What they did made Sansa feel safe, made her feel like she was still a little girl, but rather than imagine himself as her father disciplining her, he too imagined he was the person he’d been before they left Winterfell. 

 

“Oh, but she never told me it would feel this good,” Sansa said, indulging Jon. 

 

“She worried I’d put a bastard on you,” Jon said. He reached between the two of them and pulled himself out of his smallclothes. He used his fingers to guide her open, and she lowered herself onto him. “But I never would…”

 

“No, you always protect me.”

 

“It’s my job to protect you,” Jon said, and then he kissed her again. She rocked her hips up and down as Jon nibbled on her bottom lip. They did not speak again until it was over, instead leaving each other to their fantasies. 

 

And when they laid back down on the furs, all of that had vanished in the haze of lust that had possessed them in the first place. Sansa grabbed her lemon cream from the bedside table, and finished eating the treat, and Jon rolled over, falling asleep easily. In the morning they did not speak of such sinful pleasures, and went on with the business of being husband and wife. 


End file.
